


The Case of the Foolish Friend

by Ticklesivory



Series: Murder Mysteries [1]
Category: Obidala - Fandom, Star Wars
Genre: Alternate Reality, F/M, Murder Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28112835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ticklesivory/pseuds/Ticklesivory
Summary: An Obidala AR Murder Mystery.  Second in series. Our two favorite private detectives are once again on the case. There's been a murder and things are looking pretty bad for their newest client. Will Detective Ben Noble be able to figure out who the real killer is?
Relationships: Obidala - Relationship, Padmé Amidala/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Murder Mysteries [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2059539
Comments: 22
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: "Bad News is Good for Business"

Christmas was just around the corner and much to the dismay of Mr. Quinn, the girls had placed decorated trees in every corner of the office. They shimmer and shine in their silver glory. I think they're quite lovely, although Quinn has a different opinion. Thankfully, so far, he has kept that to himself and has even managed to keep his grumbling to a minimum.

Mistletoe hangs in conspicuous places as well. I don't mind that all and have taken advantage of their placement on several occasions, catching Ami off guard to steal a quick kiss or two. Whoever is responsible for this tradition deserves some kind of medal or something.

It's been two months since Ami started working at the office, and I've enjoyed every minute of it. From the beginning of our relationship, I had decided to be a gentleman and take things slow. At first, the idea had been honorable, but as soon as Ami started working here, our time together had become restricted. There was no other choice. I saw her during the day, but her evenings had become occupied with college courses* and studying. We barely had time to see one another outside of work.

Mr. Quinn was apparently satisfied with Ami's job performance. She was never late and had even improved our filing system. She and Iris seemed to get along fine and the two often had lunch together whenever I wasn't available.

Our workload had become steady, which was a direct response of the publicity we'd received after capturing the war criminal, German General Fredierich Scheid. Things were definitely looking up. That is, until today.

I had arrived at the office at the same time I always did, to find Ami waiting on me. In her hand she held the legal notepad she always used. Her morning greeting to me was typical: a quick kiss followed by an embrace and a short conversation about how we'd slept the night before. Today, however, I could tell something was bothering her.

"Why are you here so early this morning?" I asked, breathing in the sweet scent of her perfume as we embraced.

Quinn interrupted our conversation as he barged through the door. "Coffee ready?" he asked as he always did first thing.

"Yes Mr. Quinn," Ami provided the answer – as she always did. "It's on your desk."

"What is it?" I inquired after we'd parted. She was obviously concerned about something and I wanted to know what it was so that I could offer some help.

"I'll tell you both once Mr. Quinn is settled. You know how much he enjoys his morning rituals."

She was a quick study and not only provided for our needs, but sometimes predicted what they were before we realized it ourselves.

I had my own habits as well and kissed her on the cheek before heading to Iris's desk to grab the morning paper. Ami handed me my coffee just the way I liked it while I went over today's headlines. Somewhere in there was a potential client. While I read, Ami had gone to Mr. Quinn's personal office space. I could hear the rumble of his deep voice resonate along with higher-pitched tones, though I couldn't make out what they were talking about. Soon, that wouldn't be a problem because Quinn yelled for me to join their conversation.

"It appears we have a new client," he confirmed as soon as I'd entered.

His attention then turned to Ami, who started reading her notes.

"We received a call here early this morning."

All right, I wondered silently. Nothing unusual about that. However, she seemed hesitant to continue, which was starting to cause me to worry.

"Nick needs our help," she announced, looking directly at me when she did so.

"Nick Walker?" I asked. Did she mean Nick Walker: her ex-boyfriend, the man who'd attacked me with a baseball bat? "You mean, the Nick Walker? The one we both know?" I needed confirmation. Surely, there was more than one Nick Walker in this town.

"The same," she told me. "Apparently, when he got home early this morning, he found a dead man in his apartment."

My mind immediately wondered if perhaps this dead man had been beaten with a wooden Mickey Mantle.

"He claims he's innocent, of course," she continued, though I could detect skepticism in her voice.

"Has he phoned the police yet?" Mr. Quinn asked before he hurriedly finished his coffee.

"No. He wanted to talk to us first," Ami verified.

Quinn stood and grabbed his coat. I hadn't even taken mine off yet.

"Good," he announced. "Ben, I'll go warm up the car. Grab what you need and meet me there."

As soon as he'd left, I reached for Ami's hand and smiled. "It's going to be okay," I said in an effort to ease her mind as well as my own.

She shook her head worriedly. "I don't trust him, Ben. You can't believe anything he says."

"The evidence will reveal the facts," I reminded her. "It always does." I squeezed her hand to support my statement before letting go. "I'll call you later with the details." It wasn't something I normally did, but this case was different. This one was personal - at least for her.

"Be careful, Ben," Ami warned me as I made my exit.

"I will," I told her confidently before I shut the door and hurried down the hall to the stairs.

This visit would be different. This time Nick was the one who needed our help. Surely, that would improve his attitude toward me.

The fact that I was dating his ex-girlfriend was another matter entirely.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Note: *I can find no historical reference to when colleges started offering night courses. Let's just pretend it was available in 1955...


	2. A Friend in Need

The information Ami had provided was soon validated. When we arrived at Nick's apartment, sure enough, the police hadn't gotten there yet, and there was a dead body inside. I knelt beside the corpse and checked for a pulse just to make sure.

He was dead all right. Probably the result of multiple stab wounds. By quick estimation, I'd say there were at least a dozen in his chest – maybe more. On the floor next to the body was a long butcher knife with a wooden handle. Something you'd find in anyone's kitchen. The blade revealed trace amounts of blood I assumed was the victim's. I didn't touch the body or the murder weapon. Chief Dunn frowned on that sort of thing.

"Have you moved the body?" Mr. Quinn was asking Nick, who seemed relatively upset and was busy pacing around his living room.

"I didn't touch a thing!" His answer was quick and loud. "Especially not David."

Wait. "You know this guy?" I asked from my kneeling position.

"Yes, I know him. He's the one I got in a fight with the night you came here."

Uh oh. I stood and straightened my coat and pulled out my camera to snap a few photos. "You realize how this will look to the police, don't you?"

"Bad. I know. It looks bad, but you've got to believe me, Mr. Quinn. I was out late last night and when I came home, this is what I walked into."

Nick Walker was young and he had his share of problems, but I didn't think he'd ever commit murder. However, what I thought, didn't matter. It was all about the evidence.

"Where were you last night?" Quinn asked.

"We're short-handed at the old folk's home and I'm working the night shift for a while. Just until they hire someone to cover it." Nick explained.

I believed him and yet felt compelled to dig a little deeper. If we were going to work for him, Nick, like anyone else, deserved our best. "Is there someone who can verify what you've told us?" I asked.

Nick's mood suddenly turned defensive. "What do you mean by that? You don't believe me? I know you've been seeing Ami," he changed the subject as quickly as his mood.

"Now's not the time," I tried to warn him, though it didn't keep him from stepping closer. I wondered if he was meaning to attack me again. Surely, he wouldn't do that with Quinn standing right here.

"It's all right," Nick said instead, allowing me to relax though just a little. "I'm over her, but if you're your opinion of me is based on anything she's told you, I'm afraid you're only getting one side of the story."

It would be pointless to bring up the fact that I was solely basing my opinion on what happened the last time I was in this apartment. "I always try to look at all the evidence before passing judgment," I told him instead. It seemed the right thing to say at the moment.

"Good," Nick replied. "Because I've made a lot of changes since she broke up with me, and for the better, I might add. Losing her opened my eyes to several things I was doing wrong."

"Such as?" I asked. Perhaps Ami would be interested to hear his story.

"Pardon the intrusion," Mr. Quinn stated, stepping between us. "But we're trying to perform a homicide investigation here."

Mr. Quinn was right. There would be another time to listen to what Nick Walker had to say.

"So you two," I pointed to both Nick and the body, "aren't exactly friends, then. I mean, you beat him up one night and a couple of months later, he's lying dead in your living room."

Nick walked over to the body and gazed at the victim. His expression was sad and regretful. "Actually, I'm his sponsor."

I wasn't sure what that meant.

"You're a member of AA then," Quinn replied instead with growing interest. "I hear good things about that organization."

"They literally saved my life," Nick proudly responded. "I don't know what would've happened to me without the group's support. I've been sober for eleven months, and now I do everything I can to help someone else. David hasn't been doing so well lately. That night you came over," he continued with his attention directed at me. "A friend called to inform me David was drunk. I went to the bar he was at, but he wouldn't leave with me. Instead, he picked a fight. I hit him once in the nose to try and knock some sense into him and he bled like a stuck pig. I felt guilty, so I brought him to my apartment to clean him up before taking him home.

"Christmas is a tough time for a lot of the members," Nick continued explaining. "David lost his kids in a house fire ten years ago around Christmas time and he blamed himself for it. He started drinking soon after that and ended up getting a divorce. Now, each year, he starts drinking soon after Thanksgiving and doesn't put down the bottle until well after the holidays."

"But why is he here?" Quinn asked. "And how did he get into your apartment if you weren't here to let him in?"

"I gave him a key, that's why," Nick told us. "Every recovering alcoholic needs someplace they can go where they feel safe; where they can escape whatever is happening that might trigger a binge. Apparently, David came here looking for a haven and he got murdered instead."

The tragedy of the situation hung like a heavy fog in the room. We didn't have time to feel sorry for the dead. Not if we wanted to save the living.

"We'll need a statement from your employer regarding your shift change," Quinn requested.

"To establish an alibi," I confirmed afterward.

"I can do that," Nick assured us. "What else?"

"Call the police and give yourself up."

It wasn't a suggestion and something Quinn had always insisted on before agreeing to help a client out of a jam. We would never blacken the eye of our agency by aiding a fugitive from the police, he'd mentioned to me more than once in the past.

"But I didn't do anything wrong!" Nick insisted.

"If that's true, then you have nothing to worry about," I assured him, although, with the amount of panic written on his face, I wasn't certain he believed me.

"Listen," Quinn stepped closer to the worried young man and was using his most fatherly tone of voice; the same one he used on me whenever I was upset. It always helped a little. I'd never admit that out loud, of course.

"Running or hiding from this will only make you appear guilty. Ben and I believe you, which is why we'll take your case. But only if you give yourself up to the police and allow them to perform a full investigation."

Nick's expression seemed calmer, although his body language revealed he was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a roomful of rocking chairs.

"All right," he agreed. "But you'd better be right about this."

As soon as Nick picked up the phone, I glanced over at Quinn. The older man was calm and confident; either due to the story we'd just heard or in the soundness of his own advice.

I, on the other hand, was almost as nervous as Nick; especially when I wondered what the police were going to discover when they'd swept this crime scene.

For instance: Whose fingerprints were they going to find on that knife?


	3. Happiness is a New Friend

We cleared out of Nick's apartment before any police arrived and made our way back to the office. Ami was anxiously waiting for me to tell her what was going on, although she would have to continue to do so. I didn't wish to discuss the aspects of this case with her in front of Quinn. Not that I thought he hadn't already assumed I spoke with her about everything, but I felt more comfortable waiting until we were alone.

There were a few leads we would follow up on, regardless of what Nick told us or the police discovered. Perhaps after that, I could meet up with her at our favorite deli on the corner. In the meantime, it was all about waiting to hear from Chief Dunn.

Not long after we had settled into our morning office routines, Quinn received a call from the Chief of Police. Curious, I entered Quinn's office and he handed me a note he'd written of an address I recognized. He wanted me to go to Nick's place of work and confirm his story, to make sure he'd told us the truth.

Ami wouldn't ask where I was going, and all I could do for now was promise her a long conversation at lunch. Following a kiss to her cheek which made her smile, I left for Happy Acres Nursing Home.

"Mr. Noble. What a delight to see you again." The same friendly young woman I'd spoken with before was behind the reception desk.

"I'm surprised you remember me," I told her. What had it been? Three months?

"How can I forget a face like yours?" she teased. At least I hoped she was teasing. If she was flirting, I probably wouldn't even realize it until it was too late. "Besides," she continued, leaning forward onto the desk which amplified her cleavage significantly.

Okay. So, she was doing more than just teasing. I needed to tread carefully.

"I see your face at the bus stop every day," she said in a way that reminded me a little of Rita Hayworth.

"Oh," was all I could think of to say. I was trying to act as disinterested as I possibly could, and wouldn't share with her the fact that Quinn detested that advertisement at the bus stop. I'd actually paid for it myself and presented it to him as a Christmas gift a couple of years ago. I figured the image of us was long faded by now. Then again, maybe not.

"Aren't you the chatterbox?" she again teased. "What can I help you with today?"

Finally! I nervously cleared my throat. "I need to confirm when Nick Walker's shift ended last night and what time he left."

"Nick Walker. Let's see if my supervisor is in. Perhaps she can help you with that information."

Even though she had picked up the phone to inform her boss of my inquiry, her gaze never left my face, and if I wasn't mistaken, she had winked at me. I couldn't get out of here fast enough.

"She'll see you right away," the temptress informed me. "First office down that hall."

"Thank you." I followed the direction her finger was pointing and left in a hurry, ignoring the 'No problem cutie' response completely.

When I stepped through the office door marked Supervisor, I relaxed. The woman behind the desk was most likely in her 50s, had a pudgy face, and looked like she would've made an excellent roller derby player in her younger years. She had a ring on her left third finger which proved she was married.

"What can I help you with, Mr. Noble?"

Her voice was deep; nearly as much as Quinn's.

"Be quick about it. I don't have all day."

And had an attitude to match as well. Her husband was a lucky guy.

"I need to confirm Nick Walker's shift and what time he clocked out last evening."

"Why?" the matronly woman demanded. "Is he is some kind of trouble? I knew better than to hire him. His references were excellent, mind you, but I get a feeling about certain people."

"No, he's not in any trouble," I lied. I didn't want to get Nick fired. He had enough problems already!

"Be honest with me, young man," she continued, her dark eyes narrowing as she sat back and scowled. "I know who you are. The Quinn Detective Agency often deals with murder investigations."

That damn advertisement! Perhaps it was time I painted over the thing myself.

"We handle more than just that," I told her, which wasn't a lie. "I can't actually tell you why I need this information due to client confidentiality issues."

Her eyes narrowed even further if that were possible and I could've sworn she had just growled at me.

"Very well. Two weeks ago, one of the orderlies on the night shift quit and Nick volunteered to fill in that position temporarily."

"What a considerate thing to do," I suggested, which did little good. Her sour expression hadn't changed in the least.

She continued without acknowledging I had spoken. "The night shift ends at three o'clock and Nick clocked out at approximately five minutes after three."

Hopefully, the victim's time of death would not coincide with Nick's arrival home. I pulled out my notepad to jot down what she'd just said before getting an idea.

"Is there any other way to get out of here other than the front?" If she assumed I was still asking about Nick, that was her mistake. I was more interested in bypassing the flirtatious female at the reception desk.

"There's an exit out back. Just follow this hall and take a right. You'll see it."

"Thank you, madam." I tipped my fedora and left. I followed her directions and nearly made it outside before a familiar voice called to me.

"Mr. Ben!"

I turned around just in time to intercept a gangly and extremely happy resident.

"Arnie! How are you doing?" I asked following the exuberant hug I'd just received.

"Arnie is good! Arnie is fine!"

His big smile revealed a few missing teeth. I was happy to see him as well, though was also a little curious.

"Why are you here Arnie? I thought you lived at Shady Grove." That's where I had first met him if memory served.

"That's a bad place," he told me with a frown. "Bad people there hit us."

Nursing homes seemed notorious for that sort of thing. "I'm sorry, Arnie, but how did you get so lucky to come and live here?" I repeated the question in a different way, hoping he'd understood what I was asking.

"Nick helped! Nick said we're friends. I want to be where Nick is," Arnie proudly stated in a way a young child might.

I was gradually coming to understand what had occurred. "Did Nick bring you here?"

"No silly! Arnie rode a bus!" He laughed as if he'd said something very funny. Or maybe, he was laughing at how stupid he thought I was.

I was starting to think he was incapable of telling me exactly what I wanted to know. Perhaps I should save any further questions for Nick Walker.

"Listen, Arnie," I told him politely. "I've got to go talk to Nick. I'll tell him you said hello."

"Are we friends, Mr. Ben?"

It seemed such an honest question that I was compelled to answer just as honestly.

"Of course," I told him before patting his shoulder; a move he quickly shied away from. Apparently, Arnie only allowed physical touch when it was on his terms, or he was the one doing the touching.

"Ben and me are friends," he kept saying over and over.

"I'll see you later, Arnie. Behave yourself!" I told him before walking toward the door.

"Bye, bye friend!" he yelled down the hall at me.

"Bye, Arnie!"

I exited through the door and shut it tightly behind me. I could hear a metallic clang and tested it to see if my theory was correct. Indeed, the mechanism inside the door had automatically locked it.

I'm not sure why, but I peered through the slender window that was placed vertically on one side of the door. I was glad I did because I got to see another patient approach Arnie and grab him roughly by the arm. He pulled Arnie down the hall after him. He was a tall and slender male with just a wisp of white hair on top of his head. He didn't seem to be as developmentally delayed as Arnie by the looks of him, but what did I know? Not much, let me tell you, except that the scene was bothering me enough that I was thinking I should go back in and report it to someone.

However, further inspection through the glass revealed a nurse had arrived and pulled the two apart. She sent the one I didn't know away and guide Arnie in the opposite direction. Perhaps this sort of thing happened often and I didn't realize it, although my conscience was still poking at me.

I'd talk to Nick about it. Maybe then my mind would shut up and let me do my job.


	4. The List is Growing

It was getting close to the lunch hour by the time I'd made it back to the office. I had planned on taking Ami out, however, Quinn had different plans for me. Apparently, the lab report was completed and revealed that Nick's and only Nick's fingerprints were on the murder weapon, as well as throughout the apartment. In cases like this, that was to be expected. He lived there. But the doorknob on either side of the front door had been wiped. And there were no other prints on the knife except for Nick's.

Quinn had also learned that the police had questioned the owner at the bar where Nick and David had gotten into that fight. Drunk or not, apparently the two didn't get along and David had made it known he didn't appreciate Nick always putting his nose in his business. He had made threats on Nick's life several times, which was enough of a motive for the police to arrest Nick and charge him with first-degree murder. He was currently sitting in the jail downtown waiting for legal counsel that would be provided by the city.

Our job had just become more complicated. We now had to disprove the motive as well as find evidence to prove someone else had been in Nick's apartment and murdered David. In short, my lunch date was canceled. While Quinn visited the bar, I'd question Nick further. One of us had to get to the truth of this matter.

Before I left the office, I promised to meet Ami after her classes. She had a paper to write but said she would gladly take the time out of her busy schedule to see me. I wasn't sure how we were going to keep this romance alive this way, but we both agreed it was worth a try. Only time would tell how successful we'd be.

My priority right now wasn't my personal relationship with her but trying to prove Nick's innocence.

When I approached his cell, I noticed he was sitting there much like Ami had been not too long ago; staring up through the high window into the clear blue sky. Upon noticing my entrance, however, he rose to meet me.

"I told you this was a bad idea," he immediately told me out of frustration. "I should've left town."

I disagreed, of course, and would try to convince him otherwise. "Trust me. That's never a good idea."

"You're not the one who's facing the gas chamber," he pointed out.

True. I'd visited a few clients here several times before in the past but had never experienced the other side of it. "You're right." I agreed, which seemed to calm him down. He visibly slumped his shoulders and walked back to the bench where I joined him.

"Mr. Quinn is the best investigator I know of," I assured him. "We'll get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, I have a few questions I need to ask."

"As long as one of them isn't if I killed David," Nick suggested with a smirk. "Because that will just piss me off."

His expression revealed he was joking, although I sensed some truth behind his remark. As always, I'd ask what I needed to in order to help a client. I couldn't really do anything else.

"At any point, did you threaten David's life? Especially during a time of annoyance or anger and even if you meant it as a joke?"

Nick paused to think a minute before he answered, which was always a good sign.

"I don't think so, although he threatened me a few times. Alcohol brings out the worse in some people, and I never took anything he said seriously while he was drunk anyway. But yeah, he told me he was going to kill me if I didn't leave him alone a few times."

"What about when he was sober?" I asked. "Did you ever spend any time together around other people who could testify that you had no reason to kill him?"

This time, Nick's answer came quickly. "Of course. We attended AA meetings together every Thursday night. I even gave him a lift to them once in a while."

"Excellent," I replied. "Where are these AA meetings held?" I pulled out my notepad and pencil to record his answer.

"The Methodist Church on Sixth Street. There's an alley out back with a door leading to the basement. That's where the meetings are held."

"And what about his ex-wife?" I asked. "Do you ever hear from her or know her whereabouts?"

Nick frowned. "Do we really have to drag her into this?"

"I'm sure the police have contacted her by now to inform her of David's death." Something they were keeping from us I figured, since Dunn hadn't mentioned it. "She might have an opinion of her ex-husband which would benefit your case."

"Maybe," Nick agreed, "although she's a real piece of work."

"What do you mean by that?"

Nick leaned forward and stared at the floor. "I hear all she wanted from David was to live the good life. She was constantly pushing him to work more hours and bring home more pay. She was always wanting fine things; mink coats, pearl necklaces – stuff like that."

"Is that the reason she divorced David?"

"Possibly, although David always thought it was because she blamed him for the fire that killed both their kids. Honestly, I wouldn't put it past her to have set the blaze herself in order to get rid of them. Kids cost a lot of money."

It was difficult to understand how a mother would ever do such a thing, but I'd read similar stories in the papers a few times over the years.

"What was the cause of the fire?" I asked.

"Supposedly, someone forgot to put the screen in front of the fireplace and a random spark lit up a rug nearby. Since the kids' bedrooms were upstairs, they didn't get out in time. According to David, by the time he woke up and was aware of it, the stairs were engulfed and he couldn't get to them."

"That's tragic," I said and I meant it. "Was there an investigation?"

"No, not really. The fire marshal declared the cause of the fire and the police determined it was an accident."

"But you don't think so."

Nick turned his head to gaze at me. "No, I don't think so. David's wife had an insurance policy of a million dollars on those kids and once she got it, she ran off with another man and demanded a divorce. He had no idea where she is."

If Ami ever did something like that to me, I'd probably end up being a boozer myself. However, this part of Nick's story got me thinking. If something or someone convinced David's ex-wife that he could ever come back and sue for his part of that insurance claim, it could be considered a motive for murder. I'd share these details with Mr. Quinn later to see if they were worth following up on.

"Okay, now tell me why you had Arnie moved to Happy Acres," I insisted.

Nick's brows lifted in surprise. "What were you doing there?"

How could I put this nicely: "Just following up on a lead to prove your innocence," I told him. "During my visit, I saw Arnie and he was very happy to see me. He mentioned, though, that the other place he was at had bad people who hit him."

"Yeah," Nick replied sadly. "Some people just don't have what it takes to handle those who aren't lucky enough to be dealt a decent hand in this life. There are a couple of nurses as well as a few orderlies who often use physical force to get a resident to comply. I've reported several incidences, but nothing was ever done about it."

I recalled the scene I'd witnessed through the window and even though it had little to do with his case, I wondered if Nick was aware of what was going on.

"I saw another patient get rather rough with Arnie. He was a tall, older man, mostly bald with a little bit of white hair on top."

"Dammit," Nick responded angrily, confirming my suspicions he wouldn't be happy about this news. "That's a new resident. His name is Kade Mooney."

"Does he have the same problems as Arnie?" I wasn't familiar enough with any of these kinds of diagnoses.

"No, which is what bothers me. I hate the way the system treats these people. Arnie is developmentally delayed. His brain works on the same level as a five-year-old's. Mooney's problem is that he's mentally ill. He has a criminal history and shouldn't be in the same building as the others. For some reason, he's been hanging around Arnie, and I worry what kind of influence that will have on him. Mooney belongs in a sanitarium, not a nursing facility."

Nick seemed sincere about his concerns. "That doesn't seem fair," I agreed. I'd check on Mooney's record later.

"It doesn't, but that's all about to change." The claim caused a grin to appear on Nick's face.

"How so?" He had me curious.

"Because I just donated two million dollars to NCAL along with a demand for some improvements," he proudly informed me.

"I'm sorry, NC...what?" I asked.

"My fault," Nick replied. "The National Association for Long-Term Care: the people who are responsible for overseeing nursing homes."

And now for the big question. Where did Nick come up with two million dollars? Unless…

"Was that the money your father left you?" It took me a minute, but I figured it out. Quinn had mentioned something about an inheritance Scheid left for his only son, although it somehow had been left out of the papers – a miracle in itself.

"Yeah," Nick confirmed. "I didn't want a dime of that money for myself. Not from someone like him. It took hours to convince the FBI I had no idea who he really was. He'd been able to keep that secret from me my entire life."

"I imagine the FBI was pretty suspicious after you received that amount of dough." I pointed out.

"You're right, but after I donated all of it, they pretty much got off my back."

He was lucky. The FBI was notorious for harassing an innocent suspect for days on end. There was still another question. "What about the Alpati Estate?"

"Taken by the state," Nick replied. "They can have it. I hated that place. I hated growing up there. It was like living in the worst possible museum you can imagine. I couldn't touch anything and he always hired decorators with the worst possible taste."

Now, I was beginning to understand the bitterness he held for the man, even if Nick hadn't known he was a Nazi.

"So, no bail money then," I reasoned on my own.

"Nope. No bail money," Nick verified. "Don't worry about it. I needed some rest anyway. Just as long as you and Mr. Quinn keep me off death row."

I felt like I was getting to know Nick Walker well and could sense no deceit or malice in him. Mr. Quinn and I were going to have be at the top of our game this time around.

"We'll do our best," I assured him. "Try not to worry," I added before standing to leave. My time was up and a guard was patiently waiting for my departure.

"Easy for you to say," Nick replied before he leaned back and once again stared out the window.


	5. Narrowing Things Down

In Quinn's office was a leather sofa. It was brown and ugly as sin, but it was also extremely comfortable. Whenever I sat on it, I sunk a little and felt as if I was receiving a warm, leathery hug. Quinn had tried to get rid of it last year, but I talked him out of it. It was my favorite place for thinking; to meet up with Quinn and hash out cases.

Today, however, I was finding my seat not as comfortable as usual. Perhaps it was the lack of strong evidence supporting Nick's innocence that was troubling me. Or maybe it was the fact that Quinn was having his own difficulties with the case. I had hoped one of us would come up with something by now. Nick was due in court by the end of the week. First, a pre-trial was scheduled, and if the judge ruled against him, an actual trial would take place. From where we stood, Nick would certainly be found guilty and most likely sentenced to death.

"I've been on the phone all morning trying to track this lady down," Quinn was explaining from behind his desk; his long frame stretched out in his chair, his hands clasped on top of his head. It was a position he often took whenever he was frustrated. In other words, not a good sign.

"I finally found her working at the Palms Motel, just outside of Los Angeles," he continued.

His news was surprising. According to Nick, David's ex-wife had claimed nearly a million dollars in insurance money. What was she doing working at a motel?

"Were you actually able to talk to her?" Los Angeles was too far away to drive and I couldn't imagine we could afford a plane ticket to get there.

"I was and I've never met a bitterer woman," Quinn replied, changing positions to lean forward onto his desk. This piece of furniture was also scratched and dented, but it was as big as a boat. There was no way he'd ever get rid of it.

"She was quite pleased to tell me about David; what a louse he'd been and how much he deserved to die," Quinn explained, now tiredly rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Apparently, the man she ran off with had debts she didn't know about. Substantial debts he owed to mobsters in Vegas. He told her he'd paid them all off, but later Vegas police discovered him face down in a ravine with two bullets in his brain. All along, he'd been hitting the casinos and racking up more debt before he could pay off what he already owed. Needless to say, that million dollars was gone before she had a chance to live the fine life she deserved." Quinn took a break to glance at me with an exasperated expression. "Her words, not mine."

"So, after all that, she winds up flat broke and let me guess: hired as maid service at a seedy motel?" I asked, lifting my feet to place on the coffee table.

"Good guess," Quinn replied. "She didn't have a single kind word to say about her ex-husband, so we don't have to worry about the cost of a ticket to get her here to testify. Her testimony would probably be more damaging than it would be helpful."

"Chief Dunn might have a different opinion of her," I countered.

"Mason told me he has no interest in her as a witness for the prosecution. Especially after I told him she denied ever meeting Nick Walker."

"Interesting," I responded. I couldn't offer up a rebuttal on that statement, since I'd never even asked Nick if he had met her. He had an opinion of the woman himself and a pretty low one at that, but he'd never mentioned actually speaking with her in person. "Should I try to disprove that statement by asking Nick?"

Quinn shook his head. "Don't worry about chasing that lead. I'm pretty sure it's a dead end."

Our silent contemplation was interrupted by the entrance of Ami, who was carrying two coffee cups.

"Here you go, fellas. I thought this might help you get through the day," she offered, handing off the beverages. I wasn't sure how much she'd heard but she was hesitant to leave and obviously hoping to be brought into the conversation.

"Thank you, Miss Berrie," Quinn told her before taking a sip.

I was going to wait. The mug was nearly too hot to hold and I didn't want to scald my tongue.

"Yes, thanks," I smiled up at her, noting the imploring look she was casting. I decided to help her out, although Quinn beat me to it.

"Tell us your experiences with Nick Walker," he suggested. "And try not to let emotion cloud your judgment. I realize he treated you poorly, but according to Ben, he's turned over a new leaf."

She was surprised, perhaps not by the news, but by the fact I hadn't told her anything. I was going to, I just hadn't had the chance yet.

"Very well," she replied, sinking into the other end of the sofa. "I was out with some girlfriends one night and was introduced to Nick. We seemed to hit it off right away and before the night ended, he had asked me out on a date. I accepted and everything went well at first. Later, I found out that as soon as he dropped me off at my apartment after a date, he'd go back out, get drunk and end up spending the night with some floozy he'd picked up at a bar. This went on for a while. I tried to get a confession out of him, but he was such a good liar. Finally, after a few months, I decided to confront him about it and he nearly lost his mind. He accused me of spying on him. His anger came on so fast and strong that it frightened me. I broke up with him on the spot and never went on another date with him."

"Did he try?" I asked her.

Ami glanced at me to answer before looking back to Quinn. "He did. He would call my number at all hours of the night whenever I was in town and even had his friends harass me. I was thankful Mr. Alpati… I mean, Mr. Scheid sent me on so many jobs overseas, because after a while, Nick finally gave up and I hadn't heard from him in a while. That's the truth of it, Mr. Quinn," she confirmed in case there was any doubt.

"I don't see anything about your story that would put him in more danger than he's already in, although you should be prepared to be subpoenaed soon."

"Oh, I already have been," Ami pointed out. "While you two were out of the office this afternoon, a delivery man came in and dropped one off on my desk. Iris received one too, although I'm not sure why."

I wasn't either. Iris didn't know Nick Walker unless there was something she hadn't told us.

"I'll question her as soon as she gets back. I sent her on a few errands," Quinn explained. "Other than that, I'm not sure where to look next," he admitted. "It seems we're running out of leads."

The three of us paused in silence to gather our thoughts or perhaps mourn the lack of them.

"What if," Ami suddenly spoke up, "Nick actually committed the crime? Have you ever considered that?"

This wasn't the first time an investigation hit a dead end, but blaming a client was the last thing either of us wanted to do.

"Things haven't gotten that bad yet, my dear," Quinn replied before turning to me. "Do you have anything else?"

The pending pretrial was looming before us, which added stress to an already stressful situation. I wasn't certain if my experiences at the nursing home would be helpful, but I quickly recalled the visit and shared them with my boss.

"I don't see how either Arnie or this Mooney fellow fit into this puzzle," Quinn replied.

"What if," Ami surprised me by saying, "Mr. Mooney did it. I mean, you don't think it was Nick, David's ex-wife was out of the state at the time of the murder, so who else could it be?"

What was she seeing that I wasn't? Sometimes, Iris had insights into a case Mr. Quinn and I didn't, or she would point out something we'd overlooked. Call it womanly intuition or whatever you want; at this point, I was willing to listen to any idea Ami had.

"What would be the motive?" I asked her.

"You said he's criminally insane. Do crazy people need one?"

Her statement was so blunt and truthful, Quinn and I immediately gazed at each other in surprise.

"She has a point," he muttered.

My mind quickly ran over the details of my visit where I had witnessed Mooney being mean to Arnie. Perhaps there was something I had missed; some clue I hadn't picked up on. I visualized each step I'd made, each comment heard and came up with nothing new.

"That place is run by one tough cookie," I explained. "I mean, she's no Minerva, but I believe she could take on you, Mr. Quinn." A brow shot up comically on my mentor's face before I continued. "I just don't see how any of her residents could go and come as they please or be unaccounted for. There's a receptionist at the front doors at all times and the only other outside door automatically locks behind you after you leave."

"Perhaps if he had help?" Ami once again suggested.

"Like I said ..." I began, only to stop mid-sentence with a new thought. "Arnie. Nick told me that Kade Mooney had befriended Arnie."

"I thought you said Arnie was mentally retarded," Mr. Quinn stated.

"Developmentally delayed," I corrected him. These old people and their antiquated terms!

"All right, whatever you just said. How could someone like that be of any assistance?"

"I'm not sure," I told him truthfully.

"And why David?" Ami asked. "What connection is there with Arnie, Mooney, and David?"

Again, I wasn't sure, which made it clear that I needed to be.

Before Quinn opened his mouth, I stood and grabbed my coat. "I know, I know. I'm headed back to Happy Acres."

"Be careful, Ben," Ami told me, concern revealed on her face.

I smiled, suddenly realizing how that phrase had taken on a whole new meaning for me. Quinn had often mentioned in the past that I took too many chances where my own personal safety was concerned. Before, I'd never given it much thought. But now – now that the potential for a happy life and future with Ami was at stake? You can bet I was going to be cautious.

"I'll see you later," I promised her before heading out the door.


	6. Meeting the Monster

It's not that difficult to blend in with your surroundings, especially when your coat and fedora are both a dark color. Hiding in plain sight is also easier when the sun's going down and the light is getting dimmer by the second. I was safe here, tucked up against the building, surrounded by the dark green leaves of an overgrown shrub.

At the last possible moment, I'd decided perhaps it would be best if I avoided making another grand entrance into Happy Acres. The receptionist would most likely be helpful, but I highly doubted the administrator would be. What was her name? It was Yiddish sounding. Oh yes, Bernonsky. Mrs. Freyda Bernonsky. How could I forget?

It was dear Freyda I was waiting for. Out of habit, I assumed she would leave out the back door and swing it wide; not concerning herself with waiting to ensure it closed and locked as I had done. My plan was for her to exit and me to enter, although I'd have to quick about it.

I learned from Nick that the shift changed at seven o'clock. It was nearly ten after. Surely, she'd show up soon, although the longer she took, the darker it was getting, which only increased my chances of getting inside.

A few minutes later, I could no longer see the numbers on my watch, which was the perfect time for her to appear in the doorway. Just as I'd hoped, she barged through and swung that door wide. I stepped out from the evergreen and crept down the wall at a face pace, keeping my eyes on her the entire time. She didn't look back and headed straight for her '52 Chevy sedan that was parked facing the building. I'd have to make it through that door before she got behind the wheel or she would see me.

Luck would have it that I caught the edge of the door just before it closed and quickly stepped inside. I didn't bother checking to see if Freyda had noticed. I figured I'd know soon enough and I waited to hear the rumble of that big sedan engine. Its noise grew louder before gradually fading. She was gone.

Her office was down this hall and to the left, but I'd need to be careful not to be seen by any night shift workers or patients for that matter. Any one of them could turn me in and my mission was over before it'd begun.

I reached the door with success and twisted the knob. Dammit. It was locked. Just as I reached into my pocket for a couple of my picks, I detected the rhythmic squeaking of shoes drawing near and froze, holding my breath until the sound vanished completely. Once it was safe, I went to work on the lock. I was getting pretty good at this sort of thing and slid the locking pin toward the barrel with ease. A minute was all it had taken, which had to be a world record. I was pretty sure of it.

Stepping inside the office, I suddenly realized how dark it was. There wasn't a single window in this room and the only light was coming from the hall and shining in from beneath the door. I'd have to feel my way around and hopefully not knock anything over which would alert someone to my presence.

Earlier I'd noticed a file cabinet to the left of Mrs. Bernonsky's desk and I bumped into it with the toe of my shoe. Again, I froze in place and waited a few seconds to see if anyone had heard me. Fate apparently was on my side this evening. No one came and I opened the second drawer. I couldn't risk turning on the lights and pulled my Brownie flash from my coat pocket. Holding it in front of me and aiming it at the drawer, I activated it once and observed the files at the same time. While the image was still fresh in my mind, I grabbed the one I'd seen marked 'Mooney, Kade', stuffed it in my shirt, pocketed my flash, closed the drawer, and headed for the door.

I'd gotten what I came for without running into a single soul. Confidence in my ability to carry out a covert operation was at an all-time high.

I should've known better not to think so highly of myself. Just when things are going good, something is always going to go bad. It's just the way things are. If I did run into somebody, I was hoping that somebody would be Arnie. However, the person I nearly bumped into on my way down the last corridor was Mooney.

"Pardon me," I said, backing up a couple of steps to put a more comfortable distance between us.

He was tall; six foot two perhaps. I'd also guess he was forty-one, perhaps forty-two; still considered pretty young to be that bald. I hadn't noticed it before, but he also had a thin mustache and matching beard. Both were as white as snow.

"I've seen you before," he told me before taking a long drag on his cigarette.

I was pretty sure patients weren't allowed to smoke in this facility. It seemed Mooney was above the rules; at least when Bernonsky wasn't around.

"You're that private dick who was in here earlier. The one bothering Arnie." He blew the smoke in my general direction, which I didn't appreciate at all. I also didn't appreciate the slang term used to describe me or my position.

"I wasn't bothering him," I defended. "We're friends. You can ask him." I stepped back another two steps. Mooney stood his ground and inhaled again on his cigarette.

"Visitation is over. Has been for two hours. You shouldn't be here."

The way he'd spoken in such a commanding voice merely added to the piercing green gaze of his and sent chills up my spine.

"Which is why I'm on my way out," I told him, adding a jovial smile for distraction. "Have a pleasant evening."

I casually made my way to the exit, opened the door, and looked back once. Mooney was still standing there, watching me with a skeptical eye and a smile of his own that revealed he was both domineering and dangerous. I returned my own friendly grin and stepped out, shutting the door behind me. As soon as I was out of sight of any window, including the glass in the door, I bolted and ran all the way to my car, which I'd parked two blocks away. I couldn't wait to get back to my apartment and study this file.

For once, the old Ford started right up. It had always been a bit persnickety when it came to cold weather and often caused Quinn and me problems. As soon as I was sure the engine wasn't going to quit me, I slammed the thing into gear and merged into traffic. Although I was in a hurry, I obeyed the speed limits posted throughout town. What was laying on the passenger seat would get me into loads of trouble and I couldn't afford to get caught with it.

To be on the safe side, I decided not to return to my own apartment, but to swing by the college and pick up Ami after her class let out at 8:30. We'd go to her apartment instead and together, discover what awful truths lay ahead.


	7. Digging Without a Shovel

"You stuck this inside your shirt?"

Ami had relieved me of my burden just as soon as I'd stepped into her apartment. I set both locks on her door just to be safe.

"Ben, you take too many chances!"

I agreed with her, but I wasn't going to admit it. "I do what I need to in order to ensure justice," I quoted some ancient advertisement I'd heard on the radio once, although I couldn't keep from smiling after I'd said it.

Ami smiled along with me. "Who are you? Superman?" she asked before setting the bulky folder on her kitchen table.

"I wish," I answered, pulling out a chair to sit on.

"I don't," Ami debated before leaning toward me. "I like you just the way you are."

She pressed her lips against mine. They were soft and sweet. She probably meant for the touch to be quick, but I wasn't in agreement about that. Moments like this were rare. I was going to take advantage of one while I had the chance and quickly pulled her onto my lap to kiss her again, although this time, much more thoroughly. I loved kissing her. It was quickly becoming one of my favorite pastimes. When her fingers gripped the nape of my neck, I released her. We both needed to take a breath anyway.

"We. Have. Work. To. Do." she told me, accenting each word with a kiss in between.

Always, I groaned internally. One of these days, things were going to be different. One of these days she'd be mine and I wouldn't have to leave her. Ever.

But that day lay in an uncertain future. She was young and attending college as well as working and I was always on a case. It was too much to ask for right now. I considered myself a patient man. I'd wait.

"All right," I acquiesced with a playful frown. "Let's take a look."

I was actually nervous about what I'd find out about Mr. Mooney. I had the feeling all along that he was dangerous, in a violent sort of way, and I was hoping these records would prove I was right.

We had divided the information into sections and spread them around the table, picking up one stack at a time to go through it. There was a lot of information here, dating back at least thirty years. I started at the beginning. It seemed the logical thing to do.

According to this data, our dear friend started his career early. His first recorded odd behavior came in 1932 at the age of twenty-three when he was turned over to the police following a complaint that he had mutilated his neighbor's pets. In those days, the animal welfare laws were pretty lenient. He didn't serve any time, but the state tested him, which landed him in Bryce Hospital; an insane asylum located in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. Mooney had undergone several electroshock treatments as well as artificial fever therapy for a few years after that.

"Look at this," Ami interrupted my train of thought and stood to share her findings with me. "In 1935, someone by the name of George Smith donated a significant amount of money to Bryce Hospital." It was actually a newspaper clipping she was showing me; a strange thing to keep in a medical record.

However, the name seemed familiar and I rummaged through the pile of papers to find it again.

"Aha!" I declared, pulling out the original admission form to the asylum. At the bottom of the paper was a signature of the responsible party and it was none other than George Smith. "I know this name. Why do I know this name?" I wondered aloud.

"I got it! George Smith is a senator from Florida, that's why." Ami informed me.

"That's right," I agreed. "He's also into oil or something." I'd read an article in Life magazine not long ago which talked about the richest entrepreneurs in the United States. George Smith was included on that list.

"Why would a Senator from Florida be admitting Mooney into an asylum?" I asked, studying another form; this one was a consultation from a psychotherapist.

"He has to be related, somehow," Ami replied, sitting back down to search on her own.

Several minutes ticked by before she excitedly slapped a document before me. "That's why," she told me triumphantly.

What she had retrieved was Mooney's birth record although the name at the top of the form wasn't Mooney at all, but Smith. "Kade Smith," I read aloud. "Born October 27, 1915, to Mary and Bill Smith of Lake City, Florida."

"That's just outside of Tallahassee," Ami informed me.

"Bill Smith," I repeated. "What do you think the relation is to Senator Smith?"

Ami stared at me while lost in thought and suddenly rushed over to a sofa covered with textbooks and notepads. She plucked a volume up and began running her finger through the index of it, smiling and presenting me her discovery.

Inside this book was a list of every senator currently holding office across America. Also included was the political history as well as some personal information such as hobbies and interests. What I was looking for was a family history, and I turned several pages to discover a photo of Senator Smith. Lo and behold, standing next to him was a much younger version of Kade Mooney. There was a tiny caption below the photo which I read aloud. "Senator George Smith of Florida enjoying a day of deep-sea fishing with his brother, Kade."

"Holy cow!" I uttered. "Mooney is Senator Smith's brother."

Ami leaned forward. "No wonder he donated all that money."

"And changed Kade's name." I surmised.

"It wouldn't help his political career to be related to someone with the diagnosis of…let's see," she paused before picking up another medical report. "Paranoid schizophrenia with homicidal and suicidal ideations."

"That'll pack a punch," I replied. "No wonder he gives me the creeps."

"What is he doing in a place such as Happy Acres?" Ami asked. "I thought those types of facilities were for the physically and mentally impaired not the mentally insane."

I was wondering the same thing, although the truth was becoming more obvious. "My guess is that Senator Smith didn't want to take any chances of someone finding out his brother is in an insane asylum."

"So he made sure Kade was transferred to someplace less damaging to his career. But why Happy Acres?" Ami finished, asking the question I was wondering about myself. "You'd think a reporter would've made this public knowledge by now. I mean, look at us. We uncovered this in less than an hour."

"Money tends to seal mouths," I told her. "And apparently Senator Smith has lots of it."

"So does blackmail," Ami added. "I imagine Senator Smith uses a little of both to win and keep his office. But who is his connection at Happy Acres?"

I studied her expression. She seemed perturbed at the idea of a corrupt public figure, although it seemed commonplace nowadays.

"Are you sure you want to pursue a career in that field?" I asked. There wasn't a single politician I knew of whom I would trust and that included Eisenhower.

Ami smiled sweetly. She knew exactly what I was talking about. "I'm aware of everything happening behind the scenes," she told me. "I'm neither blind nor naïve. I'm just hoping that someday I can make a difference; that I can be honest and sincere and that people will notice and respond to that."

She had my vote. "Honesty and sincerity in politics? You'll be an enigma," I teased while reaching for her hand. Her skin was soft and I gladly took the time to enjoy it.

"Stop that. I can't think," she teased before withdrawing her hand. "So. What do we do with this information?"

"First," I replied while stacking the papers back in their original order. "I have to return them without getting caught."

"And after that?" Ami asked.

I could tell she was worried. This case had certainly become more complicated. "After that, we'll have to figure out a connection between Mooney and David. Kade certainly has the inclination for murder. Now, we have to discover a motive."

Her brows lowered which indicated something was on her mind. I continued to organize the file as best I could.

"What if," Ami began, "Mooney was waiting in Nick's apartment, expecting Nick to come home and not David? What if he made a mistake and he meant to kill Nick all along?"

I'd already run this option over in my mind, but coming from Ami, it suddenly made much more sense.

"What did Mooney have against Nick?" I asked. Even with this new information, I honestly had no idea.

Her expression rapidly changed from pleasure to disappointment. "I don't know."

"Then that's what we need to find out," I replied, before slapping the file closed.

Perhaps it was time Mr. Quinn contacted a certain Florida Senator.


	8. The Cat is Away

There had been a few times during my employment at The Quinn Detective Agency when Mr. Quinn and I did not agree. This was one of those times. I wasn't sure what Ami was going to do, but she and Iris had wisely shut the door and so far, were staying out of it.

"Ben, you have no idea what someone like that could do to us! You're dealing with powers beyond our expertise. Someone like Senator Smith could ruin us, or worse yet, come after you and…well, you know what I mean."

Was he serious? "Senator Smith is in Florida! That's several states away from here. Surely, his arm isn't that long." I argued. He was just an old man and a greedy politician!

Quinn stood and placed both hands on his desk to look at me as if I were ten years old. Sometimes, he made me feel that way, which is why I stood my ground in times like this. I wasn't a child and he was only my boss.

"I realize you're still pretty new to this, but you have to understand that someone as rich and influential as Smith can make bad things happen and nothing is ever done about it. Nothing! Not even an investigation."

No, I didn't realize he was that corrupt, though it would make sense. He was related to Kade after all.

"I'm not afraid of Smith," I protested. "What I am afraid of is doing nothing to stop an innocent man from paying for a crime he did not commit. His hearing is tomorrow, and if we don't come through for him, we'll be the ones who are guilty!"

Unchecked, my voice had risen in volume. Quinn had taught me long ago to keep my passions reined in, especially when dealing with suspects. Never let them see you sweat, he'd told me more than once. Well, this time I couldn't help it. I had never allowed an innocent client to be found guilty before, and I wasn't about to start!

"All right, all right," Quinn held his hands out to calm me down and returned to his seat. "Let's be rational about this. I'm just worried about you getting in too deep. I hear Smith has ties to the Mafia and he doesn't mess around. This could be dangerous. If anything happened to you, I'd never forgive myself. You know, you're just like…"

"Okay." I interrupted him. He was about to tell me I was just like a son and I didn't wish to hear it. Not at the moment. Not that the feeling wasn't mutual. I looked up to Quinn like a father. In fact, he was the father I'd never known. But I wasn't in the mood for teary-eyed confessions.

"I understand," I said before throwing myself down on the overstuffed sofa and allowing my body to sink into it. "But we can't sit here and do nothing just because we're afraid of the consequences. If Smith has illegally intervened for his brother's sake, and if Kade is guilty of a crime, we need the evidence to prove it."

"That's the trick, isn't it?" Quinn replied before lighting up a cigarette. "Where is the evidence? Just because a medical record reveals Kade is related to the Senator, doesn't prove he killed anyone. The only thing we have right now is the smoking gun. We don't have proof of who fired it."

Dammit. He was right.

"I tell you what," Quinn replied, smashing his smoke into the ashtray. "I'll drive down to Florida and interview Smith myself. I'll have better luck doing that than I would trying to get him on the phone."

"You will?" It was the first hopeful thing I'd heard all day.

"In the meantime, keep after Kade. In his state of mind, surely he'll slip up and confess to something – even if just to gloat." Quinn stood and retrieved his coat and hat from a rack next to his desk. "I'll be taking the car. You'll have to take a cab."

"Thanks, Quinn," I told him, my mind already awhirl with ways to pry a confession from Kade's warped mind, although I wondered about it at the same time. Would an insane man's confession be admissible in court? "Be careful," I added.

"I should say the same to you." Quinn held his hand out to catch the car keys I tossed his way. "Don't get any foolish ideas."

"I wouldn't try anything without backup available," I assured him as he left.

I waited until I heard the outer door close and even stood to walk to the window to watch him drive away. An idea was beginning to form in my mind and he wouldn't like it. Not one bit.

"Why is he so hesitant?"

The voice was Ami's, though I didn't turn around to make sure. I was still staring out the window trying to work out the details of a dangerous scheme beginning to form in my brain.

"He doesn't want me to wind up in the hospital again," I replied. "Or the morgue for that matter."

She was quiet in her approach and nearly made me jump when her hand landed on my shoulder. "Is that a possibility? Maybe you should back off then."

Her warning was spoken out of concern for me and I did appreciate that. But I also had a job to do. It's what I was getting paid for. I turned my head to smile at her. "I've never hesitated in helping someone who's innocent. If I don't help Nick, who will?"

Her dark eyes were filled with worry and there were words she wished to speak. I waited and smiled again when she didn't utter them. It meant Ami realized her opinion of Nick was biased and she shouldn't share it with me.

"Well, whatever you're planning, count me in."

Her mood had changed quicker than you can say Jack Robinson and she had planted herself onto the thinking sofa.

"Hold on," I countered just as Iris walked in.

"Don't pretend you're going to refuse our help, because you know where that will get you," the other woman told me as she flipped her golden hair back.

How had I allowed myself to become outnumbered so fast? "I don't even have a plan yet."

"Well, figure it out then, lover boy," Iris teased with a playful wink toward Ami. "Because Nick Walker is the one sittin' and rottin' in that jail cell while you're in here wondering what to do."

Iris was as blunt as she was attractive. "I have an idea, but I'm not so sure it's going to work."

Ami leaned forward and smiled at me in a way that automatically made me feel more confident. How did she do that? "I'll support whatever decision you make Ben, but I would like to offer my help. You'll be safer out there with someone watching your back."

She had taken the words I usually said to Quinn right out of my mouth. How could I argue with her?

"Fine," I announced glibly. "But the second one of you takes any There had been a few times during my employment at The Quinn Detective Agency when Mr. Quinn and I did not agree. This was one of those times. I wasn't sure what Ami was going to do, but she and Iris had wisely shut the door and so far, were staying out of it.

"Ben, you have no idea what someone like that could do to us! You're dealing with powers beyond our expertise. Someone like Senator Smith could ruin us, or worse yet, come after you and…well, you know what I mean."

Was he serious? "Senator Smith is in Florida! That's several states away from here. Surely, his arm isn't that long." I argued. He was just an old man and a greedy politician!

Quinn stood and placed both hands on his desk to look at me as if I were ten years old. Sometimes, he made me feel that way, which is why I stood my ground in times like this. I wasn't a child and he was only my boss.

"I realize you're still pretty new to this, but you have to understand that someone as rich and influential as Smith can make bad things happen and nothing is ever done about it. Nothing! Not even an investigation."

No, I didn't realize he was that corrupt, though it would make sense. He was related to Kade after all.

"I'm not afraid of Smith," I protested. "What I am afraid of is doing nothing to stop an innocent man from paying for a crime he did not commit. His hearing is tomorrow, and if we don't come through for him, we'll be the ones who are guilty!"

Unchecked, my voice had risen in volume. Quinn had taught me long ago to keep my passions reined in, especially when dealing with suspects. Never let them see you sweat, he'd told me more than once. Well, this time I couldn't help it. I had never allowed an innocent client to be found guilty before, and I wasn't about to start!

"All right, all right," Quinn held his hands out to calm me down and returned to his seat. "Let's be rational about this. I'm just worried about you getting in too deep. I hear Smith has ties to the Mafia and he doesn't mess around. This could be dangerous. If anything happened to you, I'd never forgive myself. You know, you're just like…"

"Okay." I interrupted him. He was about to tell me I was just like a son and I didn't wish to hear it. Not at the moment. Not that the feeling wasn't mutual. I looked up to Quinn like a father. In fact, he was the father I'd never known. But I wasn't in the mood for teary-eyed confessions.

"I understand," I said before throwing myself down on the overstuffed sofa and allowing my body to sink into it. "But we can't sit here and do nothing just because we're afraid of the consequences. If Smith has illegally intervened for his brother's sake, and if Kade is guilty of a crime, we need the evidence to prove it."

"That's the trick, isn't it?" Quinn replied before lighting up a cigarette. "Where is the evidence? Just because a medical record reveals Kade is related to the Senator, doesn't prove he killed anyone. The only thing we have right now is the smoking gun. We don't have proof of who fired it."

Dammit. He was right.

"I tell you what," Quinn replied, smashing his smoke into the ashtray. "I'll drive down to Florida and interview Smith myself. I'll have better luck doing that than I would trying to get him on the phone."

"You will?" It was the first hopeful thing I'd heard all day.

"In the meantime, keep after Kade. In his state of mind, surely he'll slip up and confess to something – even if just to gloat." Quinn stood and retrieved his coat and hat from a rack next to his desk. "I'll be taking the car. You'll have to take a cab."

"Thanks, Quinn," I told him, my mind already awhirl with ways to pry a confession from Kade's warped mind, although I wondered about it at the same time. Would an insane man's confession be admissible in court? "Be careful," I added.

"I should say the same to you." Quinn held his hand out to catch the car keys I tossed his way. "Don't get any foolish ideas."

"I wouldn't try anything without backup available," I assured him as he left.

I waited until I heard the outer door close and even stood to walk to the window to watch him drive away. An idea was beginning to form in my mind and he wouldn't like it. Not one bit.

"Why is he so hesitant?"

The voice was Ami's, though I didn't turn around to make sure. I was still staring out the window trying to work out the details of a dangerous scheme beginning to form in my brain.

"He doesn't want me to wind up in the hospital again," I replied. "Or the morgue for that matter."

She was quiet in her approach and nearly made me jump when her hand landed on my shoulder. "Is that a possibility? Maybe you should back off then."

Her warning was spoken out of concern for me and I did appreciate that. But I also had a job to do. It's what I was getting paid for. I turned my head to smile at her. "I've never hesitated in helping someone who's innocent. If I don't help Nick, who will?"

Her dark eyes were filled with worry and there were words she wished to speak. I waited and smiled again when she didn't utter them. It meant Ami realized her opinion of Nick was biased and she shouldn't share it with me.

"Well, whatever you're planning, count me in."

Her mood had changed quicker than you can say Jack Robinson and she had planted herself onto the thinking sofa.

"Hold on," I countered just as Iris walked in.

"Don't pretend you're going to refuse our help, because you know where that will get you," the other woman told me as she flipped her golden hair back.

How had I allowed myself to become outnumbered so fast? "I don't even have a plan yet."

"Well, figure it out then, lover boy," Iris teased with a playful wink toward Ami. "Because Nick Walker is the one sittin' and rottin' in that jail cell while you're in here wondering what to do."

Iris was as blunt as she was attractive. "I have an idea, but I'm not so sure it's going to work."

Ami leaned forward and smiled at me in a way that automatically made me feel more confident. How did she do that? "I'll support whatever decision you make Ben, but I would like to offer my help. You'll be safer out there with someone watching your back."

She had taken the words I usually said to Quinn right out of my mouth. How could I argue with her?

"Fine," I announced glibly. "But the second one of you takes any unnecessary risk or doesn't follow orders, you're out. Understand?"

"Aye, aye, Captain!" Iris unnecessary risk or doesn't follow orders, you're out. Understand?"

"Aye, aye, Captain!" Iris comically replied, saluting me once for good measure.

If this didn't work, Quinn was going to kill me!


	9. Into the Monster's Realm

The 1950 Nash Rambler: Wisconsin's answer to the post-war fuel shortage. It was as ugly as it was uncomfortable, and I suspected was never meant to comfortably seat three adults.

Being the gentleman I was, I had opted to take the back seat and allow the girls to sit upfront. My bent knees were close to my ears and having first-hand knowledge of Iris's driving habits, I realized I was in for one helluva ride.

"It's on Admiral," Ami was pointing out, "which is in two more blocks."

Iris was a great kid, but she was easily distracted, especially when she was behind the wheel.

"You missed it," I informed her before placing my hands on the roof to steady myself. I knew what was coming next.

"No, I didn't. Hang on."

I hated to admit it, but the little car performed well. It turned on a dime. As for Iris's driving skills, that was another story. She giggled nervously after she had straightened out the wheel.

"Everyone still with us?" she asked excitedly.

"Just try to get us there in one piece," I suggested. I smiled at Ami who had turned around and was starting to look a little green around the gills.

"Breathe," I mouthed silently to her. In reply, her eyes widened and she reached back with her left arm and wrapped it around my leg. Whether she was looking for comfort or perhaps security, I wasn't sure.

"Here we are!" Iris announced as if she had just performed some type of acrobatic feat; which was a good way of putting it, actually.

I told her to park in the back and she did so, placing us between two enormous sedans on the front row; one I recognized as Mrs. Bernonsky's.

"No good," I told her before she shut off the engine. "Over there is a better spot." I didn't want dear Freyda to wonder who was parking back here in the employee lot and why. It was better to be discrete.

"Do you want to drive?" Iris asked me flippantly.

"Just do what I ask this once," I pleaded with her.

"Fine." The word was drawn out with a growl added at the end. In the mirror, I actually saw her blue eyes roll toward the ceiling. If I had a little sister, I could imagine this is what it would be like.

She pulled the car to where I had insisted; away from Freyda's vehicle and any street light.

"Satisfied?" she asked.

I answered her positively while gazing out the windshield. For our plan to have the best chance of success, we'd need to wait for Bernonsky to leave. I glanced at my watch before darkness made it impossible to see. We needed to wait approximately twenty minutes – that is, if her routine was the same as before.

"What does Mrs. Bernonsky look like?" Ami asked me after a while using a hushed voice.

"Trust me. You'll know her when you see her," I explained.

"Don't be rude, Ben," Iris shot back. "Just because she may be a little overweight doesn't mean that she's…"

Just at that moment, the back door was swung wide with such force that it slammed against the building. Freyda must've had a bad day because her expression this evening was something I'd describe as tense.

"I see what you mean," Iris commented dryly. "If a bulldog were a person…"

"Iris, be nice," Ami scolded, which silenced us both for a while; at least until we observed Freyda's car pulling out of the lot.

"Now. Everyone knows their job. Right? Any questions before we begin?"

"It's a little late for that, Sherlock," Iris commented.

She may be abrasive to some, but I loved Iris. She'd helped me out on more than one occasion, and I imagined would continue to do so whenever I asked.

"All right, my dear Watsons," I quipped back. "Let's head out. If anything goes wrong, just high-tail it back out here to the car. Don't try anything heroic."

"Yes, sir, Captain sir," Iris once again saluted me and opened her door to allow me to squeeze out. Ami exited on the opposite side.

Once I was free of the clown car, I felt a hand grab my wrist and turned to look back at our daring driver.

"Be careful, Ben," Iris said with as much sincerity as she could manage.

Touched by the rare display of her feelings, I smiled and reached for her hand. "I will. Just remember everything I told you and only use the gun if you have to."

There was nervous fear on her face; on both the girls' faces as a matter of fact, although I assured them everything was going to be all right. It had to be or else Quinn was going to kill us all.

Ami and I walked toward the building together but split up once we'd reached the door. She would enter through the front and request a visit with Arnie. During that visit, she would distract the receptionist long enough to allow me to get through the back door. I was concerned about that lock. I'd never tried to pick anything like it before and had already determined I was going to need more time. No world records would be broken tonight.

Once Ami had disappeared around the corner, I waited a couple of minutes and then went to work. I could usually feel the adjustment of the pins inside the locking mechanism, but this beauty had an aggressive bite and required an alternative method. It had taken me nearly three minutes before I managed to bypass the shield and rotate the pins inside.

Success. The door opened and I stepped into a familiar, dimly-lit hallway. Even from this distance, I could hear the excitement in Arnie's voice as he met with Ami in the lobby. Other residents opened their own doors to see what all the commotion was about. I stood still in the shadows and waited. Finally, after they realized it was nothing that concerned them, they returned to the privacy of their own rooms. This allowed me time to sneak quietly down the two hallways which would bring me to Bernonsky's office.

The lock on her door was a cinch compared to the one I'd just picked and I was inside in a jiffy, stumbling my way through the dark. I managed to replace the file this time without the use of my camera and quietly closed the drawer.

I could still hear the animated and excited voice of Arnie drifting down the hall and took advantage of the distraction to roam the opposite direction, hoping a particular patient would be out and about.

As luck would have it, I found the intended patient leaning against the doorframe of his room, smoking.

"You again," he uttered upon recognizing me. "What is a private dick doing hanging around an old folks' home?"

"I'm here to see you, Kade Mooney," I answered. "Or should I say, Kade Smith?"

I was going to have to toss all my aces out at once. I didn't have time for anything else.

Kade drew long and hard on the cigarette which cast an eerie red glow onto his face. A fitting color, I imagined.

"Who's Kade Smith?" he replied, blowing smoke out at the same time.

"You are," I replied. "Your older brother is Senator George Smith from Tallahassee, Florida. Your mother's name was Mary and your father's name was Bill. You were born in Lake City, Florida, and became a resident of Bryce Hospital in 1932."

Kade's smile was as creepy as his demeanor, although his teeth were white and straight. "Somebody's been doing a little reading," he pointed out before tossing the cigarette onto the green linoleum floor and crushing it with his foot. "But why? Why would a gumshoe want to know so much about me?"

"Because," I replied. I could feel the adrenaline rushing through my bloodstream and I focused on my voice in order to keep it steady. "I believe you killed someone six nights ago in Nick Walker's apartment."

"I'm glad to see you have a sense of humor. Most private dicks don't," Kade replied cooly.

He hadn't made a move yet, but I was ready in case he did. There was a gun in my right pocket I hoped not to have to use, and a roll of nickels in the other.

I anxiously plowed on. "I think you were hiding in Nick's apartment waiting for him to arrive, and when someone came in, you attacked them. Only this someone wasn't who you were expecting. You killed an innocent man, but for what reason?"

Again, a broad, toothy grin was revealed. "You think you're pretty smart, don't you? You forgot one thing. I'm in here and this place is pretty locked down; It's practically a prison."

"One with minimal security," I countered. "It seems anyone can come and go as they please. I've been in and out of here several times and haven't been caught yet."

"Maybe," Kade answered before taking a step forward. I automatically took one back. "But you're not a patient. The nurses in here take roll every hour and that back door locks as soon as you step out of it."

"Which is why you had to have help on the inside," I explained to him. "Someone was waiting for you to let you back in."

Kade chuckled; a deep-throated gurgle that gave me goosebumps. "Ain't nobody in this joint smart enough to do anything like that," he told me. "They're all a bunch of 'tards. I'm a genius compared to them."

"But you didn't always think that, did you?" I responded. "That's why you befriended Arnie. You hoped he'd be a confidant; someone who would assist you in your crimes. Someone you could threaten and control and when the time came, use as a scapegoat."

"Nah," Kade replied, looking away. "That's too complicated for me. I just liked the guy. But you're right, he'd be an easy one to blame. He's sweet but he's not too bright."

"Not like you," I pointed out. I was running out of time and I needed to irritate him more. For some reason, I hadn't yet been able to do that. "Which makes me wonder how you got here in the first place? Weren't you admitted to an insane asylum? Isn't that what Bryce Hospital is? And your brother; he signed off on all those shock treatments and therapies, didn't he?"

There. That did it. For a second, I noticed Kade had become enraged. His jaw had clenched and his eyes had widened, although he'd somehow managed to contain it. In rapid succession, another smile formed on his face.

"You have no idea what it's like," he told me through clenched teeth, stepping forward, while I matched his movements backward. "To be strapped in and hooked up to a machine while they take away your memories and try to alter your brain. Those nutjobs were hoping to turn me into a better person. What they don't understand is that I like who I am! I'm not going to change, and no amount of electricity running through my brain is going to do that. Those doctors and dear old brother George can both burn in hell before I go through that again. I'm not going back there."

And there it was. Clear as crystal and right in front of me: Fear. Kade was afraid of being sent back to Bryce Hospital – a place his brother involuntarily committed him to. But who was threatening to send him back there? Who other than the person he tried to kill? But how did Kade learn about Nick's intentions unless he had an informant? It had to be someone who was working at Happy Acres; Someone like that pretty receptionist perhaps.


	10. Blame It on the Danger

Dealing with someone who was clinically insane wasn't much different than dealing with any other person. The only difference was that these poor souls lacked the ability to stop themselves from performing a violent act. We're all capable of murder but have obtained the moral guidance required not to follow through with it. We were taught the differences between right and wrong from birth. In most, those lessons stick. In others, they don't.

It was almost unfair. Kade didn't have a choice. I had intentionally threatened him and revealed to him that I knew the truth of what he'd done and where he was headed. The chance of him coming after me in order to silence me is what I was counting on. It was all just a matter of timing at this point.

According to our plan, Ami had phoned for a cab. While we were waiting for it, I prepared Iris.

"Be sure to capture them in the light so we can get a shot of their faces," I told her for the umpteenth time.

"Yes, yes. Seriously, Ben – you need a new camera," Iris pointed out. "You do realize you can buy an infrared lens nowadays."

"If you can afford one," I declared. "Now, seriously. Whoever comes out that door with Kade, we need a good shot of, as well as him leaving."

"Got it," she confirmed. "Afterward, I'm hauling my ass to your apartment just in case."

"No! You can't interfere no matter what. If he suspects we're onto him, it might scare him off. Just let things happen as they will. Trust me, I'll be ready."

"You'd better be," Iris finally complied although she was shaking her head. "If this doesn't work out as you hope, in the best scenario, we're all out of a job."

"You can back out now if you'd like. I won't hold it against you," I told her honestly, although, at this point, I wasn't sure what I'd do. She was a vital part of gathering needed evidence.

"No. I'm in," she replied, easing my mind. "I'll stay hidden in the dark and do what you said. At least this one time."

"Thanks, Iris," I patted her arm before turning to join Ami. The cab was already waiting for us.

A few minutes later, we were standing in my apartment staring at my bed. "Realistic enough?" I asked before adjusting the pillow meant to represent my torso.

Ami pulled the blanket up and over the form we'd created. "It doesn't matter. It'll be too dark to tell," she insisted. "Are you sure you don't want me in here with you? I could hide in the closet."

Absolutely not. I'd already made up my mind, and I reached for both her upper arms to express my sincerity.

"I don't want you anywhere near this guy. He's dangerous and there's no telling what he'll do once he's caught. If he saw you, he'd probably use you as a hostage, and I won't allow that. If anything happened to you, I don't know what I'd do," I admitted.

And I wasn't finished. Later, I'd probably blame my vulnerability on the heightened sense of danger, because I hadn't planned on admitting this so soon.

"I love you, Ami," I said, shocking us both. It was a little early to say it. We'd only been seeing each other a few months. Sometimes, you just know. And I knew I was in love with her on our second date. I just didn't have the nerve to tell her. Now, in the face of an oncoming threat, I felt it was necessary to tell her. I might not get another chance.

Once the surprise was over and realization had sunk in, Ami stepped forward into my arms. I didn't care if she repeated the phrase to me or not. What was important right now was that she knew how I felt.

She gazed into my eyes for a moment as if she were trying to make up her mind. I smiled and was about to ease her worry and tell her it was okay if she didn't love me back. My entire world would be in shambles, but I'd learn to live with it. But as soon as I opened my mouth to tell her, she smiled and said the words. So far, our relationship had been filled with joking and teasing, and even though this was a serious moment, I decided to lighten things up a little.

"Pardon me? What was that?" I asked, leaning one ear toward her. "Could you repeat that please?"

"You jerk!" Ami playfully punched me in the arm before I pulled her into an embrace.

"I heard you and I'm happy," I assured her. "Now, we just have to catch this maniac and our joy will be complete."

"I'll be upstairs," she reminded me. "If you need me, just yell and I'll come running."

"Will do," I assured her.

She smiled before switching off the light, leaving me alone in the darkness. Once I heard the front door close and her footfalls travel up the stairs, I relaxed a little.

In the corner of my bedroom, away from the window was a tall dresser. It was behind it that I took my stand. Now, the wait would begin. The moonlight was painting a narrow stripe across the carpet and hit the nightstand at just the right angle so I could make out my alarm clock. Both hands were straight up. It was midnight. By my calculations, and referencing the time of David's death, Kade would be showing up sometime between now and two o'clock.

While I waited, I thought about Ami and her declaration of love for me. I was thrilled about that but needed to focus, so I thought of other things. My gun. I had checked the revolver in my hand several times to make sure it was fully loaded. I needed to think of something else: Mr. Quinn and how much success he was having in Florida. He probably hadn't even arrived yet and I wasn't sure how pleased he'd be to have traveled all that way for nothing. If Kade was going to act as I expected him to, then the case was over. As long as Iris took those photos, we'd have all the evidence we'd need.

I checked the clock again. It was now half-past one. If he was going to show up, it'd be soon.

As if on cue, I detected the sound of metal upon metal and soon heard the slight creak of my front door being opened. It was shut so carefully, it barely made any noise at all. I stiffened my back and leaned further into the shadows when the door to my bedroom was eased open soon after.

A shadowy figure that was too tall to be one of the girls slipped in and a weapon I assumed was a knife from my kitchen was raised over his head. It was thrust down once and then twice before he realized the lump in the bed wasn't a body. That moment was when I emerged from the darkness and pointed my gun at his face.

"Kade Smith, I'm taking you downtown to the police station where you'll be arrested for the murder of David McCoy, as well as the attempted murder of…well…me."

"Aren't you the tricky one?" Kade stood up to face me, the knife still in his grip.

"Drop the weapon," I instructed, "and stand still!"

He was inching back toward the doorway ever so slowly. I couldn't allow him to leave and yet I couldn't shoot him either. He wasn't attacking me and I wouldn't be acting in self-defense. He had unlawfully entered my apartment, but the laws of defending one's property were still undecided in this state.

I had backed him into my living room while he still held the knife.

"You're not leaving here except as a corpse," I tried to bluff him, which only made his smile widen.

"You don't have what it takes to pull that trigger, boy," he replied. "I'm going to walk right out your door and come visit you another time; a time you least expect it, and then we'll see who the corpse shall be."

There was a change in the plan, though I didn't dare mention it. I'd find the time to yell at her later, but right now I had to keep my eyes on Kade. I couldn't give away the fact Ami was right behind him and about to…

"I hope that wasn't anything you were fond of," she told me a few seconds later.

"Not really. It was a gift from Quinn. Don't worry, I won't miss it." There were pieces of colorful marble lying everywhere. The sculpture had served its purpose. Kade was unconscious.

"I'll remove the knife. Ami, phone the police. Ask for Chief Mason Dunn," I asked before kneeling next to the intruder.

Pulling a handkerchief from my suit coat pocket, I lifted the knife from his open hand and placed it on the table, then stood and walked over to the window. I jerked out the long cords that controlled the blinds and returned to roll Kade onto his stomach. I then carefully tied his hands behind his back. It was at that point he started coming to and began to moan.

Ami had returned from the kitchen. "Mr. Dunn said he's on his way. He sounded cranky, probably because it's the middle of the night."

Chief Dunn was always cranky, regardless of the time.

"You don't have nothing on me," Kade began although his words were muffled by the thick carpeting. "Breaking and entering maybe, but that will put me in the can for about a week. Then, I'll be right back at Happy Acres. When that happens, you'd better watch your back, Mr. Noble, because I'll….

"What did you do that for?" I asked as soon as Ami knocked Kade in the head again. This time, she had grabbed a heavy bookend from the shelf behind her.

"Because I'm sick of listening to his threats!" she exclaimed, her eyes widened by excitement and anger. I'd have to memorize that expression. It might prove to be useful during our later lives together.

"Geez, Ami. I hope you didn't kill him." I began to check for a pulse just in case.

Now worried, she leaned over him. "Do you think I did?"

Eventually, I found a strong pulse along his jugular. "He's fine," I said before picking up the object she had bludgeoned the guy with. "Put this back on the shelf," I requested, handing it to her. "If we keep this up, I won't have any knick-knacks left."


	11. What Can Go Wrong Always Does

You realize your so-called evidence is all circumstantial," Chief Dunn was lecturing me like I was a rookie. "We'll hold him for breaking and entering, but the attempted murder complaint is as weak as water. And you know it."

"What?" Ami stepped forward to confront the Chief of Police. "The man is insane! He used a knife to attack Ben who was sleeping in bed!"

"And he damaged nothing but a bunch of feather pillows," Dunn responded flatly, looking over Ami's head and directly at me. "You'll be lucky if he doesn't file a complaint against you two for assault."

"You've got to be joking!" Ami raised her voice, refusing to go unheard. Secretly, I was proud of her. If she did manage to be elected into office someday, she was going to make one helluva ruckus. She might even change a few things in this city for the better.

"The Castle Doctrine declares that an individual has the right to defend himself or his property from an intruder," she argued.

Dunn displayed his most patronizing face; the one I detested. "You need to study a little harder, miss," he told her. "That may work in places like London or Paris, but here? You'd better have a reason to kill someone – and a damn good one at that. We'll be in touch. I recommend you two don't plan on taking a trip out of the country any time soon. Good night."

As soon as Chief Dunn shut the door and we were alone, a noise came out of Ami I'd never heard before. It sounded almost like a growl, but also a little like a shriek. Whatever it was, she'd kept it inside until it looked to me like her eyes were about to pop out of her skull.

Then, I remembered. This was all still pretty new to her. I was used to let-downs and dealing with Chief Dunn's superior attitude. It came with the job. This time, however, I knew Dunn was wrong. I knew we had Kade Smith. Once Iris showed up with that camera and I developed those photos, it proved that someone in Happy Acres was helping Kade, and we would have a new lead; which we badly needed.

"That man!" Ami finally managed to say once she had calmed down a little. "I don't know how you can stand him! He's impossible! Telling me I need to study. I'll show him study! I'll study so hard that I'll graduate with honors, then get through law school with flying colors! Someday, I might even be elected as Mayor of this city, and then what's he going to do? Grovel at my feet, that's what!"

She had been pacing around my living room during her rant and I wasn't about to say a thing. I'd first let her get it all out. And apparently, she had a lot that needed to get out. She was still going on, although, I had stopped listening. There was a sight at my door that required my full attention.

Iris was here and in her hands were pieces of what I recognized once belonging to my camera.

"What happened?" I asked, my stomach dropping to my feet.

Written on her face was total contrition and tears began to fall.

"Oh Ben, I'm so sorry!" she began, dropping what was left into my outstretched hands. "I thought I could get a better picture if I got just a little closer, so…" Iris paused to blow her nose into her handkerchief. "I hid behind a tree. You know the one. That big oak tree in the middle of the lot?"

"Yeah, go on," I urged. I had a horrible feeling about what she was going to tell me.

"I was so close and when they came out, I got some excellent shots. But then;" she hiccupped and fresh tears fell. "Kade turned toward the tree and I was afraid he'd seen me so I moved really fast to, well, you know, make sure I was hidden. But then, my foot got caught in a root and I almost fell. While I was catching my balance, I'm afraid I dropped your camera. It hit the cement and shattered. That's all the pieces. The rest of it is in my coat pocket."

To prove her statement, Iris retrieved what used to be my most prized possession and placed it in my hand. All I could do was stare at it. Why did this always happen? Whenever Quinn wasn't around, all my well-thought-out plans seemed to go to pot. Perhaps I needed to find a different career. Photography maybe.

I laughed at my own joke, which confused Iris, as well as Ami who had silently joined the conversation. They both probably thought I'd finally cracked.

"It's all right, Iris," I told her. "Don't worry about it. Just tell me you saw who was helping Kade."

"Oh, yeah," Iris sniffled, managing to get over most of her emotional outburst in a hurry. It seemed to me, women in general had a talent for doing that.

"It was a woman," she said. "Fairly young and attractive. She pulled up in a big sedan and picked Kade up at the back door. They left together."

That didn't tell me a whole lot and wasn't anything I hadn't already figured out myself.

"Did you get a good look at her?" I prompted her for more details. "What was she wearing? Was it a uniform of any sort?" I was hoping she'd say yes, then it would prove she was possibly a worker from Happy Acres, which I had suspected all along.

"I couldn't tell. She was wearing a trench coat; One of those that button up all the way. You know, the kind that Audrey Hepburn wears," Iris demonstrated.

I was losing her, I could tell. Soon, she'd begin to nitpick the poor woman's fashion selections.

"Focus, Iris," I demanded. "Describe her features; the color of her hair – anything!"

"Oh. Well, it was too dark to tell the color of her hair. But you know, now that I think about it - when her face did turn toward the street light, she kinda reminded me of an actress. Now, which one…"

"Grace Kelly?" Ami suggested and it was all I could do to be quiet.

"Ooo, don't you just love her? What's that movie she was just in? Oh yeah, 'Dial M for Murder.'" Iris provided unnecessary commentary.

One which Ami had to include herself in, of course. "I loved that movie! She was also in that other one with whatshisname…Gary Cooper!"

"High Noon!" Iris shouted as if she'd just won a contest. "I didn't care as much for that one as much as the other. There's a new one she's starring in that's coming out next year. What's the name of it?"

This was quickly getting out of hand, although their conversation had sparked a memory.

"Rita Hayworth," I supplied the actress's name I so desperately needed Iris to agree with.

"That's it!" she gleefully proclaimed. "How did you know?"

My gaze turned to Ami. "Because she's the receptionist who works at the front desk. You know, the one I told you about before?"

"You mean, the flirtatious red-headed bombshell you mentioned?" Ami replied, one corner of her mouth lifting in a smirk.

She had nothing to be jealous of. Ami was the most beautiful woman I'd ever laid eyes on. "That's her," I confirmed.

"Then we need to talk to her. To get her to spill her guts!" Iris supplied her own suggestion.

I knew from experience, it always wasn't that easy. Without the evidence to prove she was the one taking Kade out on the town, all she had to do was deny it.

"Blackmail her," Ami suggested, which lifted one of my brows.

"You do realize that's illegal don't you?" I felt inclined to say.

"So is murder. Let's find a big envelope, and come morning, go see her at Happy Acres. Show her the envelope and make her believe there are incriminating photos inside; Photos of her helping a patient leave the premises and accompanying him off campus."

"That would only get her fired." Iris pointed out.

Ami shook her head in disagreement. "I have a feeling she doesn't know what would happen if photos like that were to come out. And besides,"

I was beginning to see where Ami was coming from. "Kade would lose his inside man," I finished for her.

"Woman," Iris corrected.

It sounded like a plan and a decent plan is what we so desperately needed right now.


	12. Beauty Wasted

I received a phone call early the next morning, waking me from the two hours of sleep I'd managed to get. It was Quinn. He'd successfully met with Senator Smith, who, of course, had very little to say about his brother or who was responsible for transferring him to Happy Acres. He did suspect Kade was capable of murder, though he would deny any relation whatsoever if the police became involved.

Those records were supposed to have been destroyed, the senator had told Quinn, adding that he had better not see or hear from anyone regarding this matter again or else there'd be consequences.

Quinn took that as the threat it was intended and left town. He was headed back to the city and we hadn't succeeded in proving anything yet.

Ami's idea was our only chance and I called the girls into the office earlier than planned. Our coffee this morning was strong and black.

"Iris, see if you can dig up an envelope. One of those big kind with the string at the top." I ordered. "Ami, look through the old case files and find half a dozen or so photographs. It doesn't matter what they are. I just need something to bluff with."

While the girls did as I suggested, I gathered my necessary tools; a sharpened pencil, notepad, my loaded revolver, and a flashlight. I usually also grabbed my camera. I'd see if it could possibly be fixed later. Every item had a specific place in the pockets of my coat, except for the gun. It was conveniently placed in the holster which buckled around my shoulder; a gift from Iris on my last birthday. Finally, I adjusted my fedora and went to check on the girls.

"Here," Ami told me, handing me the photos. I checked them out one by one. They were of random people and places, but that didn't matter. All the receptionist was going to see was the back of them.

"And here's the envelope," Iris said.

"Perfect," I told her before slipping the photos inside. It looked exactly like something a private investigator might be carrying around.

"I'm going alone this time. I shouldn't be gone long, but if I'm held up for some reason and Mr. Quinn arrives before I get back, stall him, and don't tell him a thing. Especially anything regarding the fiasco last night."

"Don't worry Sherlock," Iris cut in. "Mum's the word."

Ami looked worried and stepped to one side of the room for more privacy. "What happens if she doesn't cooperate?"

"Then we are dead in the water," I told her. "Without her testimony, as Dunn said, all the evidence we have is circumstantial."

Her brow furrowed. "I can't believe Kade could get away with murder!"

"And don't forget about Nick," I reminded her. "His pre-trial is today and we're pretty short on witnesses."

She had lifted her hand and was chewing on a fingernail. I stopped the nervous activity by placing a kiss on her knuckles. "Try not to worry. Everything's going to turn out okay. It usually does."

Ami looked at me and slowly her concerned frown lifted into a smile. "How do you do that?"

"What?" I asked.

"Make me believe everything you say."

I put on a mysterious expression and passed my fingers in front of her face. "I have the power to influence your mind and make you do things you normally wouldn't," I teased.

"How about using that trick on Rita?" Iris mentioned from her desk without bothering to turn her head away from the morning paper.

I couldn't pretend to not understand her sarcastic comment. It was time to head out.

"Wish me luck," I suggested before stepping through the door, although I didn't wait for a reply. We all realized I was going to need all the luck I could get.

The taxi dropped me off in front of the Happy Acres and I told the driver to leave. I wasn't sure how long this was going to take. Envelope in hand, I marched up the sidewalk toward the entrance, smiling at a few residents who had already come outside this morning to enjoy this unusually warm weather.

It hadn't occurred to me that the Rita Hayworth look-alike wouldn't be on the job this early; or that she wouldn't be here at all. That would really throw a wrench into the works.

When I stepped inside and didn't see her behind the desk, I automatically thought the worst. But then she appeared coming down the hall and immediately put on a radiant smile.

"Mr. Noble, what a pleasant surprise. What may I do for you this morning?"

I had yet to ask this lady her name. Not that it mattered, though sometimes I found that a witness was more cooperative if they were approached on a more personal level.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know your name," I mentioned as she stepped behind her desk.

"Would you like my number as well?" she asked. Her voice was like a mink coat; silky and smooth.

"Let's start with the name. First and last," I suggested, adding what I thought was my most charming grin.

"It's Layla. Layla Scott," she purred before reaching for my hand. Turning it over, she used an ink pen to write on my palm. "Now, you won't lose it."

I read the series of numbers aloud. "Klondike-5549." I now had her phone number, which might come in handy in the future. For testimony purposes only of course. I was loyal to a fault. Ami had nothing to worry about. "Thanks."

"Sure. Try to use it some time," she suggested with a wink. "Now, handsome. What can I do for you?"

She was so forward, I decided it had to be an act. If it wasn't, I hated to disappoint her. I pulled out the envelope and withdrew a couple of photos. being extra careful to only let her see the back.

"This is photographic proof that last night around a quarter after one, you transported Kade Mooney off the premises and drove him to my apartment building on 6th and Pine." As I spoke, I was judging her reaction. She had yet revealed any change in her expression.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she stated mildly before shuffling some papers around on her desk. She knew. Oh, she knew all right.

"No problem," I replied. "I can just hand these over to the police. I'm pretty sure Mrs. Bernonsky would be pleased to find out one of her employees is involved with a patient and takes him off campus to go commit crimes all over the city."

She was going to take her chances. I could tell by the smirk on her full red lips. "You ain't got nothing on me. Let me see those photos."

She reached for the snapshots but I quickly pulled them out of her range. "Uh, Uh, Uh," I warned her. "Not so fast. These are evidence and meant for the eyes of the Police Chief only."

"You're a liar." Finally, here was the reaction I was hoping for. It showed she was guilty – perhaps of more than just driving Kade around the city.

"Kade was right. You're nothing but a pretender. A wannabe cop who couldn't pour water out of his shoe if the instructions were on the heel."

That was a new one. I'd have to remember it to use on Quinn sometime. He'd appreciate it. I, on the other hand, wasn't having much luck with this temptress. Although, like any feline; if you back one into a corner, their fangs usually come out.

"Have it your way," I told her, tucking the Photostats back into the envelope and sealing it. "I'm sure Chief Dunn will be contacting you shortly. Have a nice day!"

I actually didn't think she was going to stop me. In fact, I'd made it outside before she caught up with me.

"Wait, Mr. Noble," she insisted, nervously looking around. Who was she looking for? Kade was in jail. What would he do if someone told him she was talking to me? I was curious.

"You're right. I took Kade to your apartment last night, but I didn't go in. I stayed in the car. I don't know what he was up to. He doesn't tell me things like that."

I pictured Kade in my mind. He was old, bald and creepier than any man I'd ever met, and yet he appeared to be leading this young, attractive woman around by the nose.

"What does he have on you?" It was the only thing that made sense to me. Blackmail, perhaps bribery…he had to be using something to keep her trust.

"Nothing!" Layla said in her defense, once more checking who was outside. "He's kind to me, that's all. He's a real gentleman and he treats me good; like I'm somebody special. I can't say that about anyone nowadays."

Boy, did he have her fooled! So much so, that I had a strong suspicion anything I said to try and change her mind would be a waste of time.

"Have you taken him out before to the same area? Say, the night of the fourteenth?" I asked, realizing anything she said might help.

"I think that's when it was. It was Tuesday night last week. He said he had to go downtown to talk to somebody. He didn't mention who it was."

She was honestly this naive. It was difficult to understand, although I realized I had to be careful. One wrong word and she would flee. What I really needed to do was to put the smoking gun in Kade's hand and she was the only one who could do that.

"When he came back to the car that night, could you tell anything different about him? I mean, was his clothing covered with anything? Perhaps on his hands or face?"

David McCoy had been stabbed fifteen times. It was impossible for Kade to have left Nick's apartment that night without blood spatter on his clothing or on his skin.

Layla glared at me. "I'm not sure what you mean, but I've said enough. I've got to go back in now."

"Before someone sees you out here talking to me, you mean," I pressed, trying to get as much as I could out of her. "And perhaps tell Kade about it. Is that why you're so afraid? Has he ever threatened you? Struck you?"

"You don't understand," Layla insisted, nervously looking around once more. "I've got to go!"

She returned inside the building and I couldn't stop her. I was helpless and was beginning to believe that for the first time in my career, I wasn't going to be able to prove my client was innocent. And he was innocent. I was sure of it.


	13. It's Written Between the Lines

I made a stop on the way back to the office to pick up some lunch for us, and with arms full, knocked on the door with my foot. I was surprised who opened it.

"Mr. Quinn! How did you get back here so fast?" He removed a greasy bag from my hands and placed it on the conference table. I added mine to it. "I just talked to you this morning."

"Oh, that. I called you from a payphone on the road. I couldn't sleep, so I started back early," Quinn explained while I glanced at Ami and Iris who shrugged their shoulders.

Did that mean they were as surprised as me? Or were they trying to warn me they'd already brought Quinn up to date on the lousy job I'd done? He probably forced the news out of them. Quinn was good at that. Perhaps I should've been the one to drive to Florida and he should've stayed here to find a willing witness for Nick's defense.

"Let's eat, everybody," Quinn announced. "Thanks for providing the lunch, Ben," he told me, pulling everything out of the bag. I'd purchased cheeseburgers, fries and strawberry shakes, though only enough for three.

"I'm sorry I didn't get enough for everyone. I wasn't expecting four."

"No worries," Ami said, joining us. "I'm not that hungry and I'm only going to drink the shake. Mr. Quinn, you can have my burger and fries. I insist."

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want you to go hungry."

He was being polite and seemed to be in a good mood. I hated to be the one to change all that.

Iris sat down opposite me and started eating immediately. For someone so petite, she had a big appetite. She was also unwilling to look Quinn in the eye. Probably because if she did, she'd tell everything she knew. Keeping secrets wasn't her best talent.

"So," Quinn began after he took a big bite. "I asked the girls how the investigation was going and they didn't seem to want to tell me anything. Something about wishing to wait for your return so you could tell me yourself?"

"Yeah, something like that," I agreed before noticing another sympathetic shrug of Ami's shoulders. "We've been working hard," I began, trying to make everything sound better than it actually was. "I found the woman who gave Kade a ride into town. She admitted doing it, but I'm pretty sure she'll be a hostile witness. I don't think she's going to betray Kade."

Quinn looked concerned. "Are they romantically involved?"

"I'm not sure," I told him. "They have some kind of relationship going on, although I believe it to be one-sided. She's definitely afraid of him."

"Interesting," Quinn replied while munching on some fries. "He's smart. Crazy, but smart. Sounds to me like he's using her or possibly blackmailing her somehow."

I drank too quickly on my shake and gave myself an ice-cream headache, although it passed quickly. "That's what I think," I agreed, once the pain had subsided.

Ami, who was obviously wiser than me, was slowly sipping on her straw and suddenly joined the conversation. "She's in love with him, and she'll do anything he asks because she thinks he'll give her something she's always wanted."

"I don't think he has any wealth," I countered. Isn't that what all women like her wanted? Mink coats and diamonds; stuff like that?

"That's correct," Quinn agreed. "Senator Smith cut him off as soon as he received his schizophrenia diagnosis. He's the one who changed Kade's name and had him committed. The state is essentially paying for his care these days."

Ami set her milkshake down as if she'd lost her appetite. "That seems rather cold-hearted. No wonder he hates the world and wants to hurt people. As far as Layla's concerned, she's wanting to be loved and she'll take it from anyone who's offering."

Ami was the most empathetic person I'd ever known. I needed someone like that in my life. I needed someone to point out the good in people. This job had blinded me to that. Over the past few years, I'd seen far too much bad.

"Regardless of this woman's feelings, we'll have to speak with Chief Dunn and figure out who Nick's attorney is. Surely, they'll subpoena her."

We all agreed with what Quinn was saying although I wasn't sure how much Layla was going to help. What we needed was something concrete – something that proved Kade was the killer.

Just then, I heard our office door open. Iris was the first one to get out of her seat and head in that direction. There was a wall that jutted out and blocked our view of the front, but soon we were made aware of who our visitor was.

"Someone to see you, Detective Noble," she announced formally, a signal that this was serious.

I stood and walked around the obstruction to greet none other than Layla Scott, although she looked slightly different. Her long auburn hair was down which shielded half her face and she was wearing large sunglasses.

"Mr. Noble, may I speak to you privately?"

I immediately motioned to Quinn's office. "Sure. Come this way."

On the way, I glanced over at Ami who appeared as stunned as I was. It was my turn to shrug. I had no idea what Miss Scott was going to say.

After I shut the door, she removed her glasses and turned to face me. There was a large and fairly fresh bruise on her face; under and around the socket as if somebody had just belted her good one.

"A few months ago, I swore I'd never to let him hit me again. I went to the police station to see him and this is what I get!"

I motioned for Layla to take a seat and I sat across from her. "I'm sorry," I told her with sincerity. "You deserve someone much better than Kade Mooney."

She laughed at what I said and I wondered if I'd already messed up. Perhaps Ami should be the one in here talking to her.

"You're single, aren't you?"

What did that have to do with anything? "Sort of," I answered. "I'm dating somebody."

Layla smirked and then gazed out the window. "You don't get to choose whom you love. Sometimes it just happens – usually when you least expect it. Kade was kind and generous at first, but the longer I knew him, the more I saw who he truly was. I was in love with a monster and I was too afraid to break things off. Do you know that by the time I saw him in jail, somebody from the nursing home had already contacted him and told him all about our meeting? He has people out there, Mr. Noble. I'm not sure how many, but they do his bidding any time he asks."

Little of what she was telling was very surprising. It was always the blackest sheep who gathered the largest flock.

"Why are you here?" I asked, leaning forward to give her my undivided attention. "Surely, it's not just to tell me about Kade. I've done my research. I already know he's crazy."

"Because I wanted to give you this."

Layla reached inside her purse and pulled out notebooks; four of them. She placed them on the table and looked expectantly at me.

"Go ahead."

I immediately picked one up and thumbed through it. These were journals written by a madman. Inside were scribblings and drawings that would give adults nightmares. But more important were the writings.

"That blue one should be the most helpful," Layla pointed out.

She was right. Inside these pages were the details of his murders. Plural, as a matter of fact. Nick's name was mentioned, as well as David McCoy's, plus a few more individuals I'd never heard of. I'd need to check with Chief Dunn to see if they were possibly from other locations and if these could be submitted as evidence.

This was fantastic! I looked up at Layla and the relief must've shown on my face because she smiled.

"You can have them all. I wanted you to know that I'll stand as a witness in court and say anything I need to in order to put him behind bars for good. He's never going to hit me again. I'll make damn sure of that."

Hurray for her! Not only was she going to resolve this matter, but she was also going to take a stand for herself.

"This is a brave thing you're doing and I'm proud of you." It seemed a trivial thing to say but I needed to say something!

"No problem. Do you guys like have a place I can hang out in for a while? At least until the trial is over? Once Kade finds out what I've done, he's going to do his best to get back at me."

I understood exactly what that meant. By helping us, she was putting her life in danger. In return, I'd assist her any way I could.

"I'm sure one of the girls out front will put you up," I offered, immediately thinking of Ami. "I'll ask one of them. And I'll have Mr. Quinn contact the Police Chief. I'm certain he'll post an officer outside the building just to make sure you're safe."

"Thanks," Layla told me before putting her sunglasses back on. "You were right, you know. That night at Nick's apartment? When Kade came out, he was covered with blood. I knew he'd done something awful and yet I didn't say anything about it to anybody."

"That's in the past," I assured her. "You're doing the right thing now and that's all that matters."

I smiled to reassure her but inside I was ecstatic. Just wait until I told Ami and Quinn about this! We had Kade Mooney…Smith, whatever the hell his name was. We had him! Now, all we had to do was keep our only witness safe.

A/N: Layla Scott is Aayla Secura


	14. All's Well That Ends Well

Mr. Moretti was pleased to see Quinn and me as always and greeted us at our table.

"Buonasera signore e signori! Were you successful? I've been reading about this one in the papers. Mr. Ben, you didnotuh getuh shot this time, did you?"

I laughed and shook my head. One of these days I'd live that down. "No, not this time. Mr. Moretti. I'd like you to meet Ami. Ami Berrie. She's working for us now."

"Ah yes, Miss Berrie, I remember seeing you last time. Are you sure you want to-uh work with these fellows? They seem to get into lots of trouble! Cos'è una bella signora che lavora in un posto come quello?"

Ami blushed a little. If we were going to keep coming here, perhaps I needed to brush up on my Italian.

"Sono un po 'innamorato di Signor Noble, e mi piace stargli vicino."

"Ah, I see," Mr. Moretti responded to Ami's comment and aimed a smug smile in my direction.

Surely, she was going to explain to me what they had just said. Hopefully later. I did manage to hear my name in there, which just made me all that more curious.

"Yes, this is a celebration," Quinn explained. "So, we'll to have the special for such an auspicious occasion, and add Miss Berri and Miss Archer to our bill."

"Sure thing, Mr. Quinn, sir. Enjoy your meal! And congratulations!"

We were possibly celebrating a little too early, but the case was out of our hands. We had done everything we could to prove Nick Walker's innocence. Now, it was up to his attorney. I would've loved to sit in on his hearing, but today was only the pre-trial which was closed to the public. We were waiting on word about it. Surely, with the evidence supplied by Layla, the judge would rule in his favor and pursue charges against Kade Smith instead.

I picked up a piece of hard bread and some salami and tossed it into my mouth. "I don't know about you all," I commented after I'd swallowed, "but I don't want another case like this anytime soon."

"It certainly had its share of complications," Mr. Quinn added.

Iris, who usually had dove into the appetizers by now, had leaned back and appeared thoughtful. "You know, without Layla's confession, we probably would've lost this case."

We all agreed on that, although if we would've obtained particular evidence - like photographic evidence, things might've gone a little easier. I swore I wouldn't hold the loss of my camera against Iris. After all, it was an accident. I sure did miss having it with me though.

Two waiters set a large tray of fried ravioli in front of us and we began to serve ourselves. Mr. Quinn only splurged on ravioli after a difficult and successful investigation. It was one of the more expensive items on the menu. Perhaps, he knew something I didn't.

"I got a phone call from Chief Dunn earlier," he announced while filling his plate. "The city is providing Mr. Eli Doyle to represent the people against Kade Smith."

Now I understood, although Ami appeared to be more excited than any of us.

"Eli Doyle? He's an excellent attorney! I can't believe he accepted something like this. He's always paid top dollar for his expertise. You can almost guarantee Kade will get what he deserves if Mr. Doyle is the one prosecuting him. That's really good news!"

I was enjoying Ami's enthusiasm while Quinn explained further.

"The City has hired Mr. Doyle because he plans on pursuing charges against Senator Smith. Apparently, George has been dealing out a little bribery of his own, and the way he's mishandled his brother is almost criminal."

"That is good news," Ami told him.

I smiled at Quinn and then enjoyed my dinner. We chit-chatted about the food, the room, and the weather. Halfway through the meal, Ami made another announcement, although this time she was blushing just a little.

"I have more good news, but this is only for Ben."

What could she possibly have to say to me in front of Quinn and Iris?

From her bag, she pulled out a package, and from the package, she pulled out a box and handed it to me. Inside the box was a brand new camera, a type I'd never seen before. I was speechless.

"It's a Wrayflex Ia," Ami explained. "It's British and I don't know much about it, but the salesman said it's a 35 mm and creates images on a 24 x 35mm format; whatever that means."

To me, it meant a lot! There was a manual that came with the camera I'd have to read before I used it. For the time being, I couldn't put it down. I was fascinated by the thing and saying thanks didn't seem enough, though it was necessary.

"Thank you! I can't imagine how much this cost! I'll pay you back, really."

The way Ami looked at Iris made it seem as if they were in cahoots. "No need. Iris pitched in and so did Mr. Quinn."

"You need it as well as deserve it," Quinn told me before tossing his napkin onto his plate. "This was a tough case and you handled yourself well."

That was a compliment I didn't deserve at all, although I'd be gracious and accept it - as well as the gift.

"Thanks, everyone. I'll really look like I know what I'm doing now." I placed the camera back into the box and took a long drink of ice water.

It was turning out to be one helluva a day and nothing was going to dampen my mood. Not even the sight of Chief Dunn making his way over to our table.

"Good evening folks," he announced himself.

"Mason, have a seat. There's plenty of food left."

The man looked at Quinn, then longingly at the delicious ravioli, and then back at Quinn. "Thanks but I've already eaten. The wife made an excellent meatloaf today."

Strange. I'd never heard Mason mention a wife before. I wondered if he had kids as well.

"I wanted to come by and let you know that the pre-trial is over. Nick Walker has been released and all charges dropped. Kade Smith has been booked for the murder of David McCoy."

"That's excellent news," Quinn responded.

"What about the other murders?" I asked. "The ones he listed in his journals?"

"We're working on that and have contacted the FBI. These things take time."

"If you need any help, you know where to look."

Chief Dunn eyed Quinn cynically after his comment. Would there ever be a time he trusted us? Or was this secret grudge he held on Quinn going to last forever?

"The FBI doesn't often accept help," Dunn continued, "but I'll keep that in mind. Well, good night ladies, gentlemen. Have a pleasant evening."

Dunn walked away, leaving us all in a wake of confusion.

"Who was that and what has he done with Mr. Dunn?" Iris asked.

Mr. Quinn chuckled and watched the man leave. "I believe his first grandson was born today. That will cheer up anybody."

He has grandchildren? I really needed to work on getting to know people better; to think less about myself. Although, I'd been thinking mostly about Ami lately. I wonder how she feels about children? I'd love to have a few to come home to at night, to play with, and tell stories to as I tuck them into bed.

Hold on. I was getting a little ahead of myself. I hadn't even asked Ami to marry me yet. Perhaps one day soon I'd get up the nerve. Maybe after I told her I didn't have a family to speak of. Some day I'd share everything about my rather checkered past. Someday soon.

"Are you all right?" she asked, leaning toward me.

I wasn't sure where all the melancholy for myself had come from. I had nothing to complain about. We just solved another case in our favor and I was surrounded by good friends. And then there was Ami. Beautiful Ami, who was gazing at me with concern and waiting patiently for an answer.

"Sure," I replied, adding a smile to ease her worry. "Everything's perfect."

/End

AN: I was going to wait on this, but Eli Doyle is Yoda. Picture a short, dumpy attorney with glasses, crazy white hair, and big ears. :)


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